


Straight Outta Law School

by Lovedmoviesb



Series: The Rookie and Her Captain [9]
Category: Pitch (TV 2016)
Genre: Bawson - Freeform, Birthday Present, F/M, It's been 4 years and I still am not over it, lawyer AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:41:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25101076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lovedmoviesb/pseuds/Lovedmoviesb
Summary: A birthday present for msdoomandgloom. Mike Lawson is a dinosaur around the Public Defenders office. Ginny Baker is the new kid on the block. Their relationship quickly spirals away from professional. With an innocent life hanging in the balance, can the two navigate new waters in their careers and love life?
Relationships: Blip Sanders/Evelyn Sanders, Ginny Baker & Blip Sanders, Ginny Baker & Mike Lawson, Ginny Baker/Mike Lawson, Mike Lawson & Blip Sanders
Series: The Rookie and Her Captain [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1471262
Comments: 14
Kudos: 55





	1. Burning the Midnight Oil

**Author's Note:**

  * For [msdoomandgloom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/msdoomandgloom/gifts).



> Happy Birthday to my creative partner msdoomandgloom. I accidentally got you into the Bawson ship, and I regret nothing. Thanks for always encouraging me to write them.

Ginny’s front door jumped as though someone was taking a hammer to it, rattling ominously on its hinges. She awoke in a blind panic, scrambling for the bat she kept beside her nightstand. Blearily, she thumbed at the cracked screen on her iPhone, hovering over the emergency call button. 

There was a pause in the ruckus, and for a moment, Ginny wondered whether she’d woken from a particularly vivid nightmare. Then the banging began again. 

“Baker,” someone was hissing through the problematically thin wooden door. “Open up.”

That voice was recognizable even in her sleep-deprived state. The reason for its presence began to come into sharper focus when Ginny noticed the three missed call notifications on her phone. She stomped into the minuscule living room and swung the door open with venom. 

“What. The. Hell?” Ginny greeted, seething. 

Mike Lawson, by contrast, looked calm, if not somewhat disheveled. He was wearing the indigo dress shirt he had on in court today, sans the tie. It was wrinkled now, the buttons askew. By the smell, he’d clearly spent the last few hours in a bar. Ginny’s ire rose with the revelation. 

“You don’t answer your phone,” Mike said conversationally, leaning against the jam. He was clutching a thin box of pizza upon which a laptop and several manila folders were stacked, sliding haphazardly off towards the floor. 

Ginny swallowed hard, the thought of her neighbors quelling her urge to yell. “It’s 1:45 in the morning, Mike.”

“Genius never sleeps, Rookie,” he smiled crookedly. Ginny’s glower deepened. Mike seemed to notice her accessory at last. “Were you going to hit me with a bat?” he asked, amused. 

“I’m not ruling it out,” Ginny huffed. “What the hell are you doing here? Go party at your house.”

“You said you would help me with this case,” Mike reminded her. 

He had an infuriating way of goading her while remaining unruffled. In the best of times, Ginny had to admit she found it charming. She was now wondering if she could swing on him and get the pizza without making too much noise. 

“During work hours,” she stressed. “Not when you’re drunk.”

“I’m not drunk,” he looked offended at the mere suggestion, snorting beneath his bushy beard. “I went out for a drink with Blip, and some dumbass spilled a pitcher of beer on me. I wanted to go home and change but then Evelyn called Blip and he had to leave. I couldn’t get the case out of my head, and I thought, 'I wonder what my number 2 is doing’. Your apartment is walking distance so--”

“Mike,” Ginny cut him off. “Is there a point to this?”

“Let me in,” he challenged, “and I’ll tell you.”

Everything in her better judgment demanded that Ginny slam the door in his face, return to bed, and verbally ream her senior partner during the light of day. She cursed herself when she took a step back, admitting him in. 

“What are you wearing?” Mike asked curiously, taking in her ensemble. 

Ginny rolled her eyes, tugging her oversized t-shirt and cotton shorts straight. “Pajamas. Because it’s--”

“2 in the morning, yeah, yeah,” Mike waved her off. “Can I borrow a pair?”

Ginny let out a bark of laughter. “You’re going to stretch out my sweatpants,” she pointed out, already moving to her bedroom to retrieve them. 

“Are you calling me fat, Rookie?” Mike gasped theatrically. 

She could hear him bumping around the living room, taking up space, expanding into her world as was his troublesome habit. 

“No,” Ginny responded. The lack of sleep must have affected her brain worse than she supposed, because the next words to slip from her lips filled her with instant regret. “Thick-ass thighs though.”

There was a beat of silence in which Ginny froze, the bat clattering to the carpeted floor beneath. She wondered for a moment whether she had finally done it, crossed that perilous and invisible line between them. She calmed immediately when Mike let out a guffaw loud enough to rival his frantic knocking minutes ago. 

“I knew you liked them,” he teased, still chuckling to himself. He smirked at her through the open door of her bedroom, making himself comfortable on her couch. 

“Who said anything about liking them?” Ginny fired back, glad it was too dark for Mike to see her starting to flush. She busied herself with finding the clothes he’d asked for. 

Mike ignored her, opening the pizza box and his laptop with a flourish. “Have a slice, Baker,” he offered. 

He held out his hands, mumbling a thanks when she dropped the largest t-shirt she owned and a pair of beat-to-hell sweatpants into them. Without another word, he left her to the supreme topping pie on her coffee table. 

Resigning herself to a long night and a surely even longer workday, Ginny lowered herself to the couch and leaned forward to pick up a piece. 

Mike emerged from her tiny bathroom, work clothes in an unceremonious ball. He’d put on his glasses as well. He never wore them in public, whether from vanity or a preference for contacts, Ginny did not know. What she did know was that the no-nonsense dark frames looked almost obscenely good on his face, highlighting handsome features she did her damndest to ignore. 

“Do you have coffee?” he asked, pushing them up his nose with a thumb. 

“Kitchen,” she pointed absently, turning away from him. “Grab a couple of plates. Cream is in the fridge, mugs on the top shelf. Throw those in the hamper.” She wrinkled her nose at his discarded clothing. 

The smell of stale beer never had a good effect on Ginny’s mood. The driver who’d hit her father’s truck had reeked of it, the scent clinging to him like death. She shook her head, turning to the work in front of her. 

Mike returned a few minutes later, two mugs of strong coffee in one of his wide hands, two plates in the other. He set the Darth Vader mug in front of her, keeping the Han Solo one for himself. She noticed with satisfaction that hers was swirling with clouds of cream. One sip confirmed that he also remembered she took it with cinnamon and honey. 

“Barely coffee,” Mike seemingly read her thoughts. “But if you like it…” he took a healthy gulp of his own black brew, eyes crinkling behind his lenses. 

Ginny shook her head. “2 am beggars don’t get to judge my coffee,” she pointed out. She took a bite of the pizza, humming her approval. “So what was this sleazy bar revelation that had you banging down my door?”

“Gaslamp is classy, I’ll have you know,” he countered nonchalantly. “Blip and I were enjoying a few libations,” he began dramatically. “And enjoying the quiet, since you turned down our invitation--”

“And yet you’re here now bothering me,” Ginny pointed out.

Mike continued the theatrics. “Our male-bonding was interrupted... a few times actually. The ladies were disappointed to know we weren’t there for them,” Mike sighed. “They’d just accepted the sting of disappointment when the prosecution team walked in.”

“Ew,” Ginny wrinkled her nose. “Were they--”

“Sure were,” Mike confirmed. “Sitting around like they own the world, bragging like they always do.”

“Assholes,” Ginny sympathized immediately. 

Mike shrugged. “Most of the time, yeah. Occasionally Rookie, they say something worth listening to.”

“Really?” Ginny leaned back into the cushions, giving Mike her full attention. 

Mike shifted, her borrowed gray pants clinging for dear life as they stretched perilously across his thighs. Ginny resolutely ignored the sight and the feeling of his leg pressing hard against hers. 

“I don’t need to tell you what we’re up against,” Mike recounted. “White judge, and most of the jury--”

“Hopefully not executioners,” Ginny muttered, anxiety creeping in again. It had taken her upwards of two hours to relax enough to snatch a bit of sleep, her mind filled with the image of the woman they were determined to defend. 

Mike nodded, sucking at his teeth. “What we need is precedent in our favor,” he repeated. 

“Tough luck,” Ginny lamented. With a Black defendant, the chances were slim. 

“Right,” Mike’s voice took on a tone she knew well. It didn’t take much to fire him up, but systemic racism and classism set him off like a pressure cooker. He was seconds away from a rant, the kind he went into nearly every day in the office. 

“Something tells me you have a lead though,” she hedged, attempting to soften the fallout of his understandable rage. 

Mike took her point, swallowing down what would have surely been a poetic criticism of the injustices of the justice system. 

“They were talking about the judge,” he continued. “Guess he’s a big golfer.”

“Most rich guys are,” Ginny pointed out. “Just because you hate it...”

“I’m not rich and it’s not a sport,” Mike said scowling. “Doesn’t take any strength--”

“Settle down, He-Man,” Ginny soothed. “Finish your point.”

“What do you know about He-Man?” Mike scoffed, distracted. “Weren’t you like...negative 10 years old in the 80s?”

“Mike,” Ginny prompted. “You woke me up to talk about cartoons and golf?”

“ _And_ the fact that our judge likes to golf for charity events. Including ones raising money for the police.” He paused to let this sink in, a self-satisfied expression on his face.

“Recently?” Ginny’s mind began to spin at once, the pieces clicking in place. 

“Every year,” Mike’s lips tugged into the beginnings of a lopsided grin. “That’s where you come in.”

She raised a brow, leaning forward, ready to go to work. 

Mike smiled outright. “I need those millennial hacking skills of yours. We need pictures, videos, posts--”

“You know it’s not hacking, right?” Ginny asked, pulling the laptop closer to her. 

“Whatever it is, we need it, Ginny.”

He so seldom used her given name that it brought her up short for a moment. 

“Sure thing, Mike,” she nodded, bending to her task. 

The summer sun began to rise shortly after 5am, but they did not slow, working straight through. Mike paused only to dispense the empty pizza box into the trash can and refill their coffee cups. His voice was the steady soundtrack to their labor, the soothing baritone outlining case law and strategies seemingly without drawing breath. By the time Ginny’s phone began to blare the song that served as her alarm, she was stiff from being crammed on the couch beneath the computer. 

Mike reached for it, silencing Beyonce as she warbled away. “You need a new screen, Rookie. What’d you do, throw it?”

Ginny snorted, shaking her head. “Dropped it in the parking lot my first day of work.”

Mike glanced at her. “Doing what?” he asked. 

“Rushing in to meet you and Al,” Ginny admitted. “Blip had to calm me down. I was all worked up.”

“Nervous to meet your hero?” Mike asked knowingly, that smirk creeping over his face. 

“Well, Al’s a legend,” Ginny answered, taking a moment to stretch. 

“Can’t deny that.” Mike’s laugh warmed her, chasing away the exhaustion. “I probably need to go home and change,” he said, seeming to register the time at last.

“Not a bad idea,” Ginny agreed. “Unless you’re planning to make women’s sweatpants an office staple.”

“I look good in them,” Mike shrugged. Still, he reached for the laptop, shutting it. “We did good work, Rookie. I’ll see you at the office?”

Ginny nodded, tucking away paperwork. “I’ll be there.”

She watched Mike leave, shuffling away with his belongings, looking as sprightly as though he hadn’t pulled another of his many all-nighters. Ginny’s house was quieter without him, emptier. She loaded their coffee cups into the dishwasher, noting that Mike had already cleaned them out without her noticing. Seizing her cracked phone, Ginny called up her morning playlist, balancing it on the sink as she climbed into the shower. 

She sang at the top of her lungs, ignoring how much she missed having Mike around. 

  
  


-l-l-l-l-

  
  


“You know, I normally don’t give a damn that you eat like every meal is your last, but this seems excessive even for you,” Blip observed serenely. 

Mike scowled over his shoulder at his best friend. “It’s not all for me,” he said, forking over his credit card. 

“Ok,” Blip raised a brow. “Gotta figure that bacon sandwich and the latte are for me-- thanks by the way.”

“No problem,” Mike picked up the drink carrier, shuffling to the side to await their food. He handed Blip his coffee. His friend accepted it at once, saluting him before taking a long draw.

“But considering I’ve never seen you eat pancakes, I gotta wonder,” Blip continued, smacking his lips. “In fact, I can only think of one person in the office who loves pancakes, and as I recall, you didn’t want to be stuck babysitting her.”

It was only a matter of time, Mike knew, before Blip raised the question. Still, a sense of dread was boiling in the pit of Mike’s stomach like lava. 

“She’s not bad,” Mike admitted. 

Blip made a skeptical sound in his throat. 

“Fine,” Mike conceded. “She’s just as smart as you said she was. Maybe even more.” There was no “maybe” about it. Ginny was on the precipice of greatness, a brilliant mind with a work ethic that rivaled his own. She’d impressed him within a hour of their first meeting, spouting off some obscure case law that enabled Mike to secure his client’s freedom. 

Blip scoffed again, shooting Mike a look that dared him to lie.

“And she’s funny,” Mike added, face growing warm. Her laugh echoed in his mind, too loud, almost aggressive. He missed the sound. “And a damn hard worker.”

“I bet.” Blip scoffed. “As glad as Evelyn and I are that you don’t come banging down our door at 1 in the morning anymore, getting angry texts from Ginny around that time are just as bad.”

Mike inwardly cursed Baker’s blabbermouth. “She was only mad at me for a few minutes. I brought pizza,” Mike defended himself. 

For a moment, he had been sure she really was going to hit him with that bat, and he couldn’t say he didn’t deserve it. If she’d shown up to his house in the middle of the night, demanding pajamas--

Well, she hadn’t. There was no point in following that train of thought. 

“Uh huh,” Blip said skeptically. “And did you spend the night?”

“Is it spending the night if no one sleeps?” Mike jammed his credit card back into his wallet. 

Blip’s eyebrows threatened to leap into his hairline. Mike quickly amended. 

“We were _working_ ,” he stressed. “Christ, Sanders--”

“Don’t put this on me,” Blip held up a hand. “I’m just calling it like I see it.”

“And what is it that you think you’re seeing?” Mike asked, hackles up. 

Blip paused, striding forward to pick up a paper bag ladened with Mike’s hefty breakfast order. 

“Something you’re clearly not ready to admit,” he said, rejoining Mike. “Either of you.”

The statement rang in Mike’s ears the whole car ride to the office, even after Blip charitably changed the subject. It didn’t help that Ginny called while they were enroute to the office. Mike’s phone vibrated from the cup holder, her name glowing up at them both. She’d set a picture of herself on it through some generational magic that Mike didn’t quite understand. He did his best not to look at her dimpled smile.

“Want me to get that?” Blip asked, already reaching for it. 

“Do what you want,” Mike glowered, hoping his neck wasn’t turning as red as it felt. 

They managed to get through the rest of the short drive without any more incidents, piling into the already busy Public Defender’s office. Ginny smiled brightly at the sight of the food, thanking them warmly before diving in.

“You remembered I like the cinnamon butter,” she squealed with delight, popping open the recyclable container. The air filled with the sweet scent. 

“Mike did,” Blip said, looking at his friend from the corner of his eye.

Mike only grunted, hoping it would be enough to move the conversation along.

They settled into their workspaces. Not for the first time, Mike inwardly lamented the budget here at their office. He and Blip spent half their day playing bumper car with their knees, figuring out how to stretch their legs without kicking one another. Ginny joining their little cluster added a treacherous new element. 

He arranged himself carefully, forking his scrambled eggs and cheese into his mouth. Mike opened his laptop, shaking his head when he noticed that Ginny had left herself logged in to Instagram. He moved to click out of it, pointedly doing his best not to look at pictures of her last visit to the beach. He paused for a moment when he noticed he was in one of them. 

The video began to autoplay without sound. Mike watched a miniature image of himself tossing one of Blip’s twins high in the air while Evelyn yelled in the background and Blip laughed his ass off. Mike remembered Ginny filming them, her hysterical giggles, and the boys screaming in delight. It had been the best day he’d had in a long while.

“Show me what the two of you found,” Blip requested, leaning over to look at Mike’s screen. 

Mike quickly exited the page, hoping Blip hadn’t seen him mooning. He was saved as Ginny eagerly began to recount their case, launching into a mile-a-minute spiel. Mike watched her, clenching a pen too tightly in his hand, his thoughts a jumble. 

Blip was right. The rookie defender had caught Mike off guard in the worst way, and not just because she was proving to be an even more brilliant lawyer than he was. Ginny was under his skin, worming a place into his life that he was all too ready to carve out for her. 

Even now, he found himself transfixed, taken in by her contagious enthusiasm. The first day she shadowed him, she’d gone from flustered to amazed as the day wore on. Mike’s ego had spiked, but more concerning was the need that grew in him to earn more of that appreciation. Her admiration shouldn’t matter to him. He shouldn’t want to show off for a woman much younger than him, and he damn sure shouldn’t show up at her house in the wee hours. 

“You should see the pictures,” Ginny piped up, breaking Mike’s self-loathing. She stood up, lifting her laptop to shuffle past Mike’s desk and towards Blip. Mike leaned back, doing his best not to breathe in the scent of her perfume. 

Blip looked, settling into his role as a mentor with all the finesse Mike wished he possessed.

“This is good work, Gin,” Blip smiled warmly at the rookie. “Probably could have done this from the office, though. I don’t like getting woken up in the middle of the night by my wife asking why you’re texting her.”

Ginny flushed, dimple popping. “Sorry,” she muttered, looking towards Mike for backup. “It’s nice not being interrupted sometimes,” she said. “This office gets crazy. Right Lawson?”

Mike’s throat went tight, but he nodded, hoping he looked more the proud coworker and less a teenager with a crush. 

Ginny noticed. “What’s going on with you guys?” she asked, looking between them suspiciously. 

“I’m tired,” Mike’s excuse came easily. And he was. God knows he was.

Ginny let out a horsey bray of laughter. “Really?” she asked sarcastically. “What about you, Blip?”

Blip leaned back in his chair, looking not at Ginny, but Mike. “Nothing’s wrong,” he said leisurely. “Just interested to see how this case unfolds.”

Ginny accepted this, launching back into their strategy. Mike ducked behind his computer screen, determined to turn his mind back to his work. 

A message pinged through from Blip. Steeling himself, Mike opened it. 

“ _Probably should have a talk about it sooner rather than later. Some friendly advice from me and Evelyn.”_

Mike hid his choke, fingers flying as he threatened to punch holes in his keyboard. 

“ _You told your wife?”_ Mike loved Evelyn, but the last thing he needed was the too-perceptive woman on his ass. He’d never hear the end of it. 

“ _Ginny told her._ ” Blip relayed. “ _And now my house is filled with non-stop chatter about when you’re going to get it together._ ”

The information was enough to make Mike want to slam his computer shut. The next message came in. 

“ _If I keep losing sleep over your non-existent love life Lawson, we’re going to have words.”_

Mike held in a snort. He hesitated, typing reluctantly. 

“ _After the case,”_ he wrote. “ _We both need to have clear heads about this.”_

There was much more at stake than he and Ginny’s relationship, whatever it was. Their client was a mother, a sister, and most importantly, innocent. Mike would be damned if they failed her. 

Across the desk, Blip dipped his chin in the hint of a nod. 

“ _Fair enough._ ” he acquiesced. 

“Hey Lawson,” Ginny’s voice interrupted the men’s silent conversation. 

Both turned their attention to the young lawyer. Her cheeks were stretched full of pancakes. She swallowed thickly, mischief sparking behind her dark eyes.

“What, Rookie?” Mike took the bait, hiding his smile behind a hand. 

“You owe me lunch too,” she informed him cheekily. With a flourish, she dumped an obscene amount of syrup over her pancakes. “It’s the least you can do.”

“One meal at a time.” Mike shook his head, resigning himself to the twist in his guts as Ginny smiled at him. “Finish your food, Baker.”

She stuck her tongue out, returning to her breakfast and her work. Blip shot Mike one last pointed look. 

Another message pinged into Mike’s inbox. He clicked it. 

“ _For the record, Evelyn thinks you’d be cute together.”_

_“And you?”_ Mike asked. He waited anxiously for the answer. 

“ _Eh, I can live with it.”_ Blip wrote, rolling his eyes. Still, the corner of his mouth pulled up into a smile. 

Mike exhaled, exiting their chat. He’d just gotten his mind to start focusing when Ginny began to hum the most tone-deaf version of Beyonce’s _Formation_ that Mike had ever heard. Blip winced, inconspicuously slipping on his headphones.

Mike’s inbox blinked again. 

“ _I think we’re almost ready, Lawson.”_ Ginny’s words flashed up at him. “ _I have a good feeling about this.”_

Mike glanced at her around his computer, chuckling when she winked. 

“ _Me too, Rookie_ ,” he typed back. 

Ginny grinned, resuming her humming. Mike stifled a yawn, reaching for his lukewarm coffee. 

With a grin, he popped in his headphones, bringing up the _Lemonade_ album, and got to work. 


	2. Partners

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ginny and Mike face the trial of a lifetime and make the choice of a lifetime

In Ginny’s mind, there were more than a few reasons to dislike prosecutor Rachel Patrick. For one, she was on the direct opposite side of the aisle, the woman charged with the task of sending their innocent client to prison. For another, she had a nasty habit of assuming a holier-than-thou attitude.

She also happened to be Mike’s ex-wife. Ginny did her damndest not to think about this fact. 

Blip had once drunkenly confessed that Rachel cheated on Mike with the man she was now married to. Between this tidbit of news and her status as one of the most ruthless prosecutors in San Diego, Ginny was not endeared to her. 

At their first meeting, Rachel marched up to Mike on mile-high heels, simpering at Ginny like she was some charity case. Their rivalry had come naturally, a dance as old as time. The first case Ginny won directly opposite the redheaded woman had wiped the smile from her perfectly pink lips. Ginny’s third victory over Rachel had cemented the status of their relationship. Every interaction was colored by this tension and Rachel’s increasing ire. It had not made things easier though their latest trial.

“Rookie, are you ready for this?”

Mike stepped up beside her, his bulk jostling against her in the narrow space of the hallway. Ginny leaned unconsciously toward him, drawing in a steadying breath. The scent of his cologne calmed her, along with his hand gently resting on her shoulder. 

“As we’re ever going to be,” she responded, exhaling. 

Mike nodded. The only sign of his nerves was the stubborn tilt in his jaw. Ginny hoped she looked half as resolute. She hardened her resolve, drawing herself up so that she stood parallel to her partner, chin held high. 

“Stay calm, don’t let them bait you,” Mike repeated, his voice a steady rumble. “Rachel is going to try every trick in the book.”

“Don’t let her bother  _ you _ ,” Ginny cautioned. 

“Don’t worry,” Mike’s face creased into the hint of good humor. “She stopped bothering me a while ago, Baker. She’s going to try and shake us up before the jury deliberates. That’s her specialty. 

“She can try,” Ginny clipped out, nodding matter-of-factly. 

“We have the truth on our side,” Mike continued, seemingly unaware of Ginny’s angry musings.  “Our client is innocent. She’s going home.”

“She’s going home,” Ginny echoed. It had been their mantra now for weeks. 

Mike’s hand covered hers for a moment, pressing her palm flat to the smooth paint of the wall behind them. The gesture was enough to startle her, every nerve in her body firing at once. She’d spent enough time in the last few months staring at his hands, mapping every whorl and callous without even meaning to. 

“Breathe, Rookie,” Mike suggested calmly. “Couldn’t pick a better person to partner with for this.”

It was the closest he’d ever come to complimenting her outright to her face. Ginny quelled the bile splashing around in her stomach. 

“Same here, Mike,” she told him. 

He smiled outright, releasing her as the bailiff threw the courtroom door wide open. Entering the courtroom was like plunging back into a shark tank. At once, the air became dense, hot, the pressure bearing down until it felt liable to crush her. The presence of the press at the door did little to assuage the situation. Ginny could feel them lurking, scenting the blood in the water. 

Mike was unruffled, talking to their client in the soothing tones that Ginny had come to rely on. She busied herself with reviewing their closing remarks and pointedly ignoring the redheaded prosecutor sweeping in on stilettos. 

“Mike,” Rachel said, looking far too pleased with herself already. “I can’t wait to hear your closing arguments. We’ll see what the jury thinks soon.”

Ginny’s eye twitched, but Mike only looked up just long enough to nod hello.

“Maybe,” he shrugged, noncommittal.

“You’ve done a good job, Ginny,” Rachel turned instead to her. “This is a big case for a rookie. It was nice of Mike to give you a shot.”

Ginny bristled. She opened her mouth, ready to put her in her place. 

“Ginny earned it,” Mike beat Ginny to the punch. “She has a better record than you did your first year.”

Rachel went blotchy beneath her concealer. “If you say so,” she attempted for nonchalance and fell short. 

“I don’t have to say it,” Mike busied himself with his files. “Her record proves it.”

“I thought you were the kind of woman who speaks for herself,” Rachel baited. 

Ginny blinked serenely at her. “I have nothing to say to you.”

Rachel retired to her corner but not before throwing Ginny a simpering grin. Ginny swallowed thickly, glancing at the clock, her heart hammering in her chest. 

“You ready?” she whispered to Mike as Judge Slater entered the room, straightening her robes before sitting at the judges’ stand. 

“Always,” he offered Ginny a wink while standing, ready to face the trials ahead. 

-l-l-l-l-

No matter how often he came in front of a judge and jury, Mike’s adrenaline spiked. It was a familiar thrill by now, old hat, an occupational hazard. The air was charged in the courtroom, the hopes of defendants and prosecutors both, stress so saturated that you could taste it in the air. This was his arena, his stage, the place where he thrived. 

“Mr. Lawson,” Judge Slater looked coolly across the stand at him. “Your closing remarks?”

Mike stepped out. Every eye in the courtroom was on him, watching as he meandered towards the jury. He paused for a moment, looking at their faces. The selection process had been an arduous odyssey of back and forth between the defense and prosecution. Each carefully curated selection was hurled away into the waste bin as Rachel dismantled his arguments to keep them. His blood pressure had mounted to near-lethal levels when Ginny stepped in. Thanks to his Rookie, they’d managed to get at least half a dozen fair thinkers on the jury. 

Now he had to convince them all to free his client. 

“Well, Mr. Lawson,” Judge Slater prompted somewhat impatiently. “You have us on the edge of our seats already.”

He nodded, taking a moment to glance over at the bench where Ginny was seated with their client. Both women were looking at him with wide, dark eyes. One pair was brimming with fear, the other with confidence. 

Mike looked away, turning instead to the jury. 

“You all know why we’re here today,” he began, strolling towards them. “A man has been killed. Some people in this courtroom will tell you that it was a murder. A few of you might even think that now. You may have seen the pictures of that man, smiling, tan, happy, holding hands with his wife. What those photos didn't show was his true face. The face he kept hidden. You’ve seen now the kind of monster he was, the women he trafficked, the abuse so many suffered at his hands.”

Mike looked back at his client. She was younger even than Ginny, not much more than a child. He would not betray her faith in him.

“I’m asking you today to look beyond what you think you know,” Mike continued. “To look at this young woman and see what she truly is. A survivor. A person snatched from her home when she should have been entering 8th grade.” Mike’s voice cracked. “See just a scrap of what she went through. The hell that man made her life while he amassed fortune for himself. See what he pushed her and dozens of others to do. See why she freed herself.” He paused, wetting his lips. “And if you can see all that, if you can see the truth, then what you won’t see when you look at this young woman is a murder.” 

He returned to the bench, sliding in beside Ginny. His heart rate began to return to normal, his body relaxing as it always seemed to do when she was around. For a week, they’d sat just inches apart, running this gauntlet together. The whole time, she kept her face stoic, but beneath the table they formed a communication system all of their own. One knee bump for a job well done, two meant take a breath and rethink, three meant there was something urgent she needed to communicate. Her touch was an invaluable resource, a language that came almost without deliberation. Now her knee bumped his gently, pressing into his thigh. He bumped her back, resisting the urge to reach for her hand as they watched his ex-wife take her place front and center. 

Rachel had a way of commanding attention that he’d admired from the time they met in law school. It’d taken them less than a month of flirting in classes to decide to date. It took nearly a decade before Mike realized they’d both made the biggest mistake of their lives.  She rose quickly through the ranks, taking cases she was sure she could win, destroying all in her path. It became a point of contention in their working relationship and their romantic relationship in turn. When Mike had come home three years prior to find her in bed with the DA’s assistant…

Well, the one thing that could be said of two lawyers breaking up is that they at least knew how to divorce quickly. 

“That’s a sweet story, Mr. Lawson told,” Rachel started, her heels clip-clopping as she walked. “It’s enough to tug on anyone’s heartstrings,” she smiled sympathetically. “It is sad. A young woman who lost her way, the man who attempted to help her. A woman widowed, a girl in handcuffs. And a man murdered.” She walked past the defense team, pausing in front of the defendant. “No matter what the defense will tell you, the law is very clear. This was a premeditated killing. The victim is not on trial here. The defendant is. These are the only factors you must take into account. There are plenty of reasons that people commit murder. It doesn’t change the fact that The letter of the law is set in place to ensure that citizens don’t take matters into their own hands. This defendant chose not to ask for help, not to seek out law enforcement, but to snuff out a human life. It was premeditated, cold blooded, and a crime. Now you must decide whether you can live with letting her get away with it.”

She spun with a swish of long ginger hair and walked back to her place. Beside Mike, both Ginny and their client bristled. He pressed his legs to Ginny, leaving it against hers. Beneath the table, her hand brushed his knee, the nails digging in. 

“Now we wait,” she whispered.

-l-l-l-l-

The next 2 days were a roller coaster of the worst kind, keeping Ginny on the edge of her seat. She couldn’t remember eating, couldn’t remember sleeping or even going home. Her mind remained in that courtroom even when her body did not, her heart with their young client. 

“It’s coming down to the wire,” Mike muttered. 

He sat beside her, fiddling with his tie absently. Ginny reached for him, smoothing the fabric back down. 

“We knew it would,” she reminded him. 

Their client sat beside Ginny, ashen and silent. She’d shut her eyes ten minutes ago and hadn’t opened them since. Her body, slighter now than it had been when she’d first met them, swayed gently in the hardwood chair. She rocked a steady rhythm, lost in her own meditation. It was only when she sniffled that Ginny sought to comfort her outright. 

She started when Ginny’s hand touched hers, trembling at once. Ginny persisted, folding her fingers around her tiny hand. She didn’t open her eyes, but her tears stopped. Her palm pressed back at Ginny’s, strong and warm. 

On the other side of her, a knee brushed hers. Ginny met Mike’s eye. He was watching her, lips twisted into the hint of a smile, a look of something like awe on his face. It sent warmth straight to her core, bolstering her. 

Cautiously, she reached for Mike’s hand beneath the desk. He accepted her touch without pause, his thick fingers dwarfing hers. His thumb began to rub soothing patterns into her skin, moving slowly to match the sway their client set. 

Together, the trio waited. 

-l-l-l-l-

Even Judge Amelia Slater looked a bit pale as she read over the jury’s note, her eyes flying over the piece of nondescript lined paper. She took her time, nodding, her lips pursed. With a curt nod, she handed it back to the bailiff, looking back towards the appointed speaker. 

“Well?” she prompted. 

The courtroom stood as one, anxious. Mike shifted closer to his client until they were shoulder to shoulder. She was bolstered on either side by him and Ginny. For months, it had been the trio of them against the world, a family of sorts. Today, their time as a unit was coming to an end. He felt sick to his stomach. 

“On the charge of murder in the first degree, how does the jury find the defendant?” The bailiff asked in a clear voice. 

Mike could hear Ginny’s breath catch, feel their client going stiff between them. 

“We find the defendant, not guilty.”

Their client began to slump between them, sobbing silently. Mike held her up, trying to keep his eyes off Ginny and on the speaker. 

“For the lesser charges of vehicular manslaughter, how does the jury find the defendant?”

“We find the defendant guilty.”

The courtroom exploded in a buzz, the sounds of dozens of people speaking at once filling the room. Judge Slater banged her gavel, trying to get them back on track. 

“Sentencing will be set for next week. In the meantime, the defendant will be released on bail. Dismissed.”

She looked almost relieved to leave the room. Mike didn’t have a moment to savor it. He was too busy holding their bawling client, muttering nonsense sounds he hoped were of comfort. 

“What does it mean?” she asked. 

“Judge Slater is fair,” Mike answered, doing his best to shield her from prying eyes. “She’s not going to throw the book at you, no matter what the prosecution asks for. We can talk more about it once we’re out--”

He looked to Ginny but she was already in motion. She led the charge to the door, confidently demanding that people make way. 

“Mike,” Rachel was suddenly between them, balancing on her heels as though she were dizzy. “There’s still the sentencing,” she started. “The Prosecutor’s office is willing to offer--”

“Ms. Patrick,” Ginny cut her off. “We can discuss that later.”

Rachel snapped her glance to Ginny, clearly put out. “When?” she pressed. 

“We’ll call you,” Ginny answered curtly. 

She maneuvered expertly, clearing the path until they emerged on the courthouse steps to dozens of microphones and cameras. 

“That’s all you, Rookie,” Mike told her, urging her forward.

Confidently, Ginny rose to the challenge. 

-l-l-l-l-

“Today, we saw justice done,” Ginny’s voice echoed over the courthouse steps, amplified. “Though the fight is still far from over. We will continue to do our best to make sure that all people have the truth heard and justice served in San Diego’s courtrooms. We ask you all to respect our client’s privacy, and to keep up the fight wherever you are.”

“You look good up there,” Mike complimented, nudging her. 

Ginny flushed, stretching her limbs in order to give herself an excuse to not look at him.

“Thanks,” she mumbled.

“Oh you’re shy now?” Mike baited, laughing at his own joke. “Where was that when you were plowing through people to get to those microphones? Nearly steamrolled over Rachel-- not that I’m complaining…”

“Mike,” Ginny shook her head. 

He only grinned. “Seriously, Rookie. You were great.”

“We won,” Ginny recounted, still partly in shock.

“We did,” Mike’s smile widened. “She’s at home tonight, with her family. I think we can get Judge Slater down to time served for the manslaughter charge. She could be back to something like a normal life by the Fall.”

The reality of that washed over them, leaving a warm feeling in its wake. Ginny felt absurdly on the brink of tears. After 6 months of non-stop labor, of sleepless nights and long days, of constant sickening worry, they had won. 

“Rachel looked pissed,” Ginny disclosed, unable to resist the petty inkling.

Mike only snorted. “Yeah, well, she really doesn’t like you, Ginny. You keep whooping her ass.”

Ginny felt drunk after their victory. She settled into the cushions of his couch, completely at ease.  It was infinitely more comfortable than hers, one of the many stark contrasts between his living space and her modest apartment. Mike owned a house, the kind with furniture sets and throw rugs, art on the walls and homey touches. There was even a pool out back, one that he didn’t share with half a hundred strangers in an apartment complex. They were seated in his living room now, his flat screen playing the news. It was odd to see herself on television, but not nearly so much as it was to stretch out beside Mike for the pure pleasure of the thing.

“You comfortable?” he prompted, amusement on his face as she relaxed further into the overstuffed cushions. 

She yawned, sticking her tongue out. “How come you came banging on my door when you lived in luxury like this?” she asked. 

Mike snorted, adjusting his threadbare San Diego State University t-shirt. “Wouldn’t call it luxury. And you were closer to the bar.”

“You sure it wasn’t just because you wanted to see me?” Ginny teased. 

The amusement died on his face, his expression becoming serious. Ginny realized at once how close they were to one another. It would take almost no effort to rest her head on his shoulder, to lace her fingers with his. And if she were to crane her face just the slightest up, she could kiss him. 

The thought stuck in her ribcage, setting her heart racing. 

“I did want to see you,” Mike admitted, his voice a low rumble. “I always want to see you, Ginny.”

“You do?” Her mouth was dry. 

He chuckled, his eyes crinkling. “I do,” he said. 

“I always want to see you too,” the words almost hurt, her chest unbearably tight. 

“That I know,” Mike grinned. “I’m a damn delight.”

She hit him, laughing, her palm slapping into his solid arm. He jokingly jostled her back. It escalated when Ginny resorted to tickling, mercilessly plunging her fingers into Mike’s sides until he howled for mercy. It wasn’t until she’d knocked him backwards against the couch and ended up half on top of him, that awareness returned. 

She paused, flushed and breathless, her thighs sandwiched on either side by Mike’s. He’d gone red in the face beneath her, his eyes glinting with something she’d only ever saw hints of before this moment. 

“Should we talk about this, Gin?” he prompted patiently, keeping his palms pressed firmly to the couch. 

Ginny wet her lips, considering. She wondered for months if they would ever cross this line, what she'd do if she got half a chance to tell him what he meant to her. All of her carefully curated fantasies fled her brain in an instance as she looked at the man below her. 

This was Mike. He was irritable half the time and unbearably charming the rest. Here was the man with a mind like a steel trap, with resolve that enabled him to labor at one of the highest-stress jobs in the country for a decade. This was the man who remembered her favorite foods, switched desk chairs with her when she was out of office so she could have the most comfortable seat. This was the man who stayed up on the phone with her when anxiety threatened to send her spiraling into a panic attack, who never hesitated to tag team babysitting their best friends’ twins whenever the occasion rose, who looked at her sometimes like he saw right to the quick of her and it floored him. This was the man who had chosen her as his partner. 

Ginny found herself leaning forward, eager to be closer still to him. Her hair, wild and free from the confines of her courtroom updo, fanned around both of their faces, a curly curtain between them and the outside world. 

“We did good today,” she whispered against Mike’s bearded cheek. 

“We did,” Mike agreed, swallowing audibly. 

“We’re a good team,” Ginny continued. 

She’d forever remember the sour look on Rachel’s face, but not nearly as much as the smile on Mike’s or the elation on their client’s once she realized she was going home. 

“We are,” Mike turned his head inward towards her, nuzzling. His beard rasped against her skin. Ginny lifted up just the slightest. 

“I think we could be a good team in a lot of ways,” she ventured. 

Mike grinned, going pink. “You’re probably right, Rookie.”

His gaze flitted to her lips, but he laid quite still, waiting.

“I want to try, Mike,” she whispered. 

There was really no other option. Her heart and soul were full of this man now, irrevocably changed. The happiness that lit up his expression brought tears to her eyes. 

“I think we can do better than trying, Gin,” he reached up to smooth the moisture away, craning up to kiss her gently on the cheek. 

Ginny leaned down as slowly as she was able, brushing her mouth against his. At the first touch Mike’s arms shot up, wrapping around her waist and yanking her down flush against him. Her lips parted in a gasp, opening to his affections. He took full advantage, stealing what remained of the air in her lungs with a bone-melting kiss.

Not to be outdone, Ginny straddled him fully, tugging roughly at his hair. The scant space between them became an inferno in an instant, a searing clash of limbs as they sought to familiarize themselves with one another. Ginny delighted in dragging her hands along his muscled arms and chest, thrilled to test his strength. 

He rolled them over, pressing her flat into the cushions. The moan that escaped her would have mortified her with anyone else. 

“Ginny,” Mike groaned as though she’d injured him. “I want to do this right. We can go slow if you want--”

She cut him off, arching her back so that she folded right against the unyielding hardness between them. His moan, loud and rough and warm against the column of her neck, solidified her resolve. 

“Take me to bed,” she demanded, desperate for him. “We can work out the rest after.”

A wolfish smile accompanied him tugging her into his arms, carrying her from the couch and down the hall to his bedroom. 

“You make a good argument, Ginny,” he complimented, slapping a wide palm across her ass. 

“I know,” she fired back, kissing him. 

-l-l-l-l-

“I hear a congratulations is in order,” Blip grinned, leaning against the wall. 

Ginny smiled back at him. “It feels good,” she admitted. “All those months of stress…”

“And weird sexual tension that made your friends feel awkward,” Blip pointed out. 

Ginny blanched, a loud bark of laughter escaping her. “I meant the case, Blip.”

“It’s one in the same,” Blip shrugged. “You won for your client, and you won something else too.”

They paused, looking across the office towards Mike. He was knee-deep in a political rant, reaming someone on the phone about the injustices he was determined to right. Ginny smiled fondly. 

“Do you think we’ll be good together?” she asked, looking towards her mentor. 

Blip laughed. “I think you already proved that. And even though I wasn’t crazy about the two of you making goo-goo eyes at each other over our shared desks,” he paused for effect, reaching to clasp her shoulder. “You make a lot of sense.”

“I think we do,” Ginny admitted. Something in her chest loosened, nerves being replaced with a sense of hope. 

“Besides,” Blip continued, watching as Mike hung up with panache, flinging his phone across the desk. “Now you get to be the one who calms him down when he’s like this.”

Ginny smiled, laughing all the harder when Mike shot them both a look, his face contorting into a familiar pout. 

“Rookie,” he called to her, softening just the slightest. “We’ve got another one.”

“All right,” she nodded, crossing to him. “Talk about it at lunch?” she asked. 

“It’s your turn to buy,” Mike agreed, coming to his feet. “Sanders, let’s go! Baker’s treating us.”

He flung an arm over her shoulder, tugging her close as they left the office. Blip rolled his eyes, taking a step away from them. 

“Gonna have to get used to this,” he griped, grimacing when Ginny leaned over to kiss Mike’s bearded cheek. 

“You are,” Mike agreed, his bad mood forgotten. 


End file.
